Page 55 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
“Please help me,” she called, as the men approached. “This man willnae release me. I am afeared.” She struggled, but he only tightened his grip and now seized her other arm.
Her basket dropped to the forest floor and she looked up in horror. The two men rushing towards them were not comingto her rescue. They were the men she recognized from the day she’d escaped from the Priory. These were the two men who had hunted her on the Isle of Mull, the ones that the Laird of the MacNeils had lied to, to protect her.
She screamed as loud as her lungs would allow. She struggled as the men bound her arms, and kept on screaming until they tied a cloth so tight around her mouth and nose that not only could she no longer call out or even scream, but she could hardly breathe.
Looking around there was no one else in sight. There were no houses. There was no midwife walking along the track.
She was a prisoner of the very men who had haunted her nightmares for so long. But why these men were so intent on capturing her and treating her so brutally, she had no idea.
The first man, the one she had followed, shoved her. Losing her balance and with her hands bound, she had no way of bracing herself as she fell hard at his feet. His face was twisted into a snarl as she looked up, imploring him with her eyes.
She saw nothing there but coldness and an implacable hatred that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand to attention. It was only then that she became afeared her life was at risk. Until that moment she had assumed she was to be taken back to Iona and forced again into the nunnery.
What she saw in the man’s eyes told her that was not to be her fate. He had something far worse in store for her.
Standing over her, legs astride, his features twisted into a snarl, he spat a gob of phlegm that landed beside her head, among the leaves where she lay. “This is what I think of ye,” he said, his voice a ragged growl. She shuddered. Who was this vile man? And what had she ever done to earn his hatred?
He gave a vicious laugh and pushed contemptuously at her with his foot.
“At last, I have ye exactly where I want ye. Ye dinnae deserve tae live, ye’re aught but the spawn of a whore, and it will be me pleasure tae see ye suffer before I finally snuff out yer evil life. Finally, I shall rid meself forever of the sight of yer face and the woman ye remind me of.”
Her stomach roiling with nausea, Davina was shaking all over. She tasted bile in her throat, but she forced herself to ignore the sickness, for somehow she had to try and hold her wits together and stay focused on her predicament. She had no doubt the man’s deadly threats were real but she also knew she had no hope of releasing her arms from the tight bonds keeping them behind her back.
However, her legs were still free.
She managed to scramble to her feet and stood, facing her tormentor, praying that her eyes could convey defiance rather than fear. Despite his fearsome menace, she held her head high, her eyes meeting his. One of the men reached for her arm but she twisted herself violently away from his hand and took to her heels.
Running frantically back the way she’d come through the forest she could hear the men’s footsteps close behind her, their rough grunting and shouting assailing her ears.
She’d made the most of the tiny advantage she had in taking them by surprise and she was light on her feet, as fast as a deer, while they were clomping like carthorses, clumsily making their way behind her.
At last she came in sight of the lane meeting the woods behind the midwife’s house. If only she could keep ahead of her pursuers until she reached the end of the lane where she’d seen the burly man earlier, mayhap he would help her.
Flying as she was, she failed to notice the gnarled root protruding from an old tree beside the path. She caught her foot, twisting her ankle, and went down. Struggling to rise she was hampered by as stabbing pain in her leg. Attempting to run, she could only hobble. It was simply a matter of moments before the men caught up with her.
They grabbed her arms and hauled her, struggling frantically, onto the path.
The last thing she heard was the man’s harsh words: “That’s enough, little shrew. If nae fer that cursed son of mine I’d have drowned ye when I had the chance,” before she felt a hard blow to her head.
As she sank to the ground, almost senseless, the name of the man whose hatred had consumed her, flashed into her mind.
“Faither!”
The world faded to black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Everard and Maxwell strolled down the stairs of the keep, having just said their farewells to the members of the Clan Council who had come from nearby Vatersay and from all over the Island of Barra.
“Thank ye fer yer assistance.” Everard grinned at his brother. “Some folded their arms with disapproval when I gave them the details of Hugo’s mission.”
Maxwell nodded, looking serious for a moment. “Aye. They took some convincing. But when ye mentioned a potential clash wi’ MacDougall they shut their mouths soon enough.”
They crossed the courtyard on the way to the mooring. As Aileen had already sailed over the bay to the village, Everard planned to take Maxwell across to meet up with Aileen while Everard would return with the boat to Kiessimul.
“One moment, I’ll have a quick word with Broderick and Davina before I go. The lass mentioned herbs they require from the village. Mayhap I can purchase some while I’m there.”
While Maxwell waited, Everard hurried over to the infirmary, where he was greeted by Broderick.
